Way Back When We Were Blameless
by Harmonic Friction
Summary: HP characters at young ages. Nursery school, first spells, babysitting, diapers... Percy learns a lesson. Hermione shows her first signs of magic. Draco gets tested by his father. Dudley tries to stage a rebellion during naptime.
1. Percy

**Title: **Way Back When We

**Rating: **K+

**Summary:** So, we know how Percy, Harry, Hermione, Draco, Dudley and all the others grow up—but what do we know about them as small children? No spoilers, short drabbles on being kids. Nursery school, first spells, babysitting, diapers and embarrassing habits all here.

**Genre:** Different for each story. But basically fluffy angst.

**Author's Note: **Yes, yes, I need to finish some of my actual fics. But after reading DH, I needed to write something nice and innocent. Yes, it's compliant with DH but there won't be spoilers... though if you haven't read the book, I'd urge you to get off this site if you don't want it to be spoiled somehow.

* * *

_Way Back When We_

* * *

_One: Percy_

He hadn't meant to raise his temper like that, but the five-year old twins were _beastly. _Percival Weasley rubbed his sore nose, which had just been hit repeatedly by Fred's outstretched fist. However, before Percy could grab him, he'd taken off on the family's toy levitating broom.

"I wish you hadn't been born!" the red-haired six year old boy announced, much louder and more calm than he meant, and when the words escaped his lips, he saw Fred stop mid-swoop and tumble off the toy; George stopped grinning and looked wide-eyed.

"You don't really mean that," Charlie said sharply from the floor, where he was putting together a model of a Quidditch stadium.

Percy's freckled face reddened. He was sick of everyone telling him he _didn't mean that. _Anything unpopular he said, anything too proud, won that comment as a prize. Bill was athletic and good-looking, and Charlie was eccentric, the twins were funny, Ronald was too silly to make fun of and little Ginny was cute. Percy had the aspirations of a much older person; most people passed by him without a comment. His narrowed eyes behind his spectacles seemed to put them off. "This must be Percival," they'd say. Percy wondered what was wrong with being serious.

But today, he _hadn't _been serious, and everyone was in an uproar. Fred and George were actually crying, saying over and over again, "Per-see hates us!" (they were just as ridiculous when sad as they were happy), Charlie and Bill trying to be mature and reason, Mum feverishly attempting to comfort everyone. As soon as she'd calmed Fred and George down with their snapping-dragon plush toy, she took Percy by the hand and marched him into the hallway.

"Even when you're upset," she said warningly," you _never, ever _say _anything _like that! I know very well you love your brothers, and so if they are bothering you, tell them so! _Do not _say _you wish—"_

Percy's eyes welled with tears," I know, Mum! I know!" He pulled away from her and then took in a shuddering breath. "They're always having fun and I don't know why I'm not!"

"Because you're a different sort of person," she said, all of her previous, sharp tone melted as her voice became soft and kind," and none of us want you to be another way."

Despite himself, Percy trembled with tears and clung to her waist. "Even when I'm not loud? Or funny?"

"Especially then," she chuckled and kissed his forehead. "Never say hurtful things you don't truly mean—and want to take full responsibility for-- because you'll regret them."

Percy nodded, wiping his nose, and made peace that night by reading his twin brothers a bedtime story.

* * *


	2. Hermione

_Two: Hermione_

The brown-haired little girl with overly large front teeth let out a tiny giggle and put her head back on the pillow. She buckled herself down as though trying to be very still, biting her lip, her cheeks reddening at the effort of keeping quiet. However, she couldn't stay still for long.

She raised her head up and stared at her covers. _'Move, move, move,' _she thought excitedly, and again, the comforter did just that—it raised up maybe five inches and pulled itself forward, as though it was _levitating! _She giggled again and grabbed at the blanket in mid-air, pulling it back down. _'It's listening!' _she thought with a grin. _'It's listening to me!' _She thought this was an extremely silly thing for a blanket to do, and she burst into giggles again.

The hallway light clicked on and she heard padding footsteps in the hallway. She'd been heard. She stayed still, only her blinking eyes showing signs of movement.

"Hermione?"

She stayed quiet.

The door creaked open, and in walked Dad, equally-brown haired with a strong chin and a nervous look always on his kind face. "Hermione, we can hear you, no need to feign sleep, love," he said with a nice smile, sitting down on the end of her bed. "What's so amusing, anyhow? I could use a laugh or two."

"Dad, I make blankets move," she said firmly, sitting up in bed.

Mr. Granger looked taken aback, as though this was not the answer he'd expected. "Ah," he said. "In your dream, then?"

"_No, _Dad!" Hermione said impatiently. "I tell them to move and they do."

"Ah," said Mr. Granger again. He nodded and swallowed. "Where do they ah—go?"

Hermione was confused and a little angry. Even at seven years of age, she was hardly imaginative and neither was Dad! Dad, Mum and Hermione were completely straight forward and honest with each other. Mum and Dad didn't humour her, and they didn't use little words because she was young—they used large words so she'd _learn. _So for Dad to ask where the blankets went to… well, that was just plain stupid. Did he honestly think she was lying, like this was a childish trick? If she'd made the blankets raise off of her, then plenty of other people probably could, too.

"Watch," she said, and stared at the covers. _'Move, move, please move!' _she instructed again, and sure enough, the blanket folded itself back a bit and slowly floated up above Hermione's waist. She looked back at Dad, the blankets immediately dropping. "See? I make blankets move!" she smiled.

Mr. Granger's mouth was slack-jawed. "Let's get you a glass of water," he finally said. He really was beginning to think he wasn't cut out to be a parent—after all, _this _was not in the books.

* * *


	3. Draco

_Three: Draco _

"Tut, _tut," _said Father reproachfully, holding little Draco Malfoy under his armpits and dangling him over the black iron veranda. They were six floors above the emerald green grass. Dewy rain was falling.

Five-year old Draco shrieked and closed his grey eyes, flailing his arms and kicking his legs as hard as he could, but Father wasn't budging. "LET ME DOWN!" he begged. "DADDY! DADDY, PLEASE—"

"We _aren't _even so far up," remarked Father calmly, shifting the small boy in his hands. "Now open your eyes, and look down. It isn't so hard—"

"NO DADDY, PLEASE—" Draco screamed, his pale face growing more pallid by the second; he _hated _heights, he _hated _when Daddy made him do things like this—there were always little _tests _of bravery. A shove down the stairs—would he cry? A hex—could he resist? Draco bit his lip and began to cry softly.

"Now, _now, _Draco," Father snapped," I don't tolerate fear and neither does the Dark Lord, and you want to please him, hmm?"

"NO, PLEASE!" Draco shouted, terrified.

"_Open your eyes, Draco Lucifer—_open your _eyes—" _

"DADDY—"

"You're _afraid," _Father snapped," you're _afraid _just like the _Mudbloods, the Muggles, YOU OPEN YOUR EYES OR SO HELP ME, SALAZAAR, I'LL DO IT MYSELF—" _

The sliding door clicked open, and clicking heels sounded. Draco opened his eyes at the sound and screamed again at the sight of the ground that was so far below.

"Lucius? _Lucius?" _screeched Mummy's voice; she came into view, beautiful in a white gown, her long hair hitting her waist, she was so pretty, it was so high up, if Daddy dropped Draco he'd surely die, he didn't know magic like _that— _

But thankfully, he was being snatched away and held close to Mummy, who smoothed his hair and kissed his cheeks. "Baby, I'm sorry—" she said quietly, and turned to Daddy. "Lucius, _what_—"

Daddy's expression had changed. He was no longer baring his teeth and looking angry; he almost looked sad. He gripped the siding on the veranda and stared at the fog, light rain catching in his platinum mane of hair. Daddy had these kind of moods a lot. He would be very mad and then awfully quiet. Draco whimpered and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Mummy cradled him for another moment and then set him on his feet. He watched as she came toward Daddy and put her hands on his face.

"Lucius," she said softly. "Why?"

Daddy looked away. "I do not want our son to be like me," was his reply.

Draco didn't understand. Mummy said nothing, but smiled at Draco so brightly that he felt reassured.

"Father doesn't feel well," she said sweetly in his ear as Daddy stormed off, his black cloak flying out behind him. "Maybe you and I should go buy you a new toy?"

Draco bit his lip. _'Is Daddy okay? Why doesn't he want me to be like him? Does he hate me?' _A new toy, though, that would be fun. He slipped his small, thin hand into Mummy's and forgot about being scared.

* * *


	4. Dudley

_Four: Dudley_

"No!" the chubby-cheeked four year old named Dudley said insistently. "My _mum _would let me stay up!"

"Everyone _else _is taking a nap!" said teacher, in a tone that Dudley thought was hardly acceptable.

But Dudley didn't want to take a nap! He'd never taken a nap—he outright refused! There were too many interesting things to do: television to watch, games to play… Besides, Mummy was always home so Dudley had to make certain he knew what she was doing at all times. And naps were boring.

It was the first day of nursery school, and so far, Dudley didn't find it so great. He had to share toys-- and furthermore, the toys weren't _his. _Plus, he'd gotten in trouble for trying to eat his sack lunch early! The only good part was the fact that he was allowed to _paint _and get _messy_. Mummy didn't liked messy activities. In fact, she hated them. There was also a rabbit in a little glass cage at nursery school. Mummy and Daddy both hated animals ("dander!", they'd scream in unison, while Dudley and his cousin would try to work out what they were so vexed about), so the bunny fascinated both Dudley and his cousin Harry. Dudley wanted to pet its head. It looked nice and soft like a pillow.

"Come now, Dudley," Teacher smiled, and held out her hand.

"I don't think I'll do that," said Dudley simply. He'd much rather do something worthwhile.

"Dudley," said Teacher warningly. Dudley _really _didn't like her tone of voice. "You must listen—all of the _other _children are taking a nap right now—"

"I SAID I DON'T WANT TO!" Dudley shouted, his face reddening. _'What's the matter with her? This is unfair. This is so unfair.' _His blue eyes scanned the room. Sure enough, the rest of the kids were lying down on those stupid, colored mats. Harry, of course, was all ready asleep—Dudley rolled his eyes, wishing that for once, Harry could be his confidant and stand up for the lack of naptime in the Dursley household—and Piers was stretched out, but watching him intently.

"_Ooh," _remarked Teacher darkly, narrowing her eyes. "You can stop talking to me like that _right now, _Mister!"

"ONLY IF YOU LET ME STAY AWAKE!" Dudley yelled.

Teacher's face matched Dudley's in colour now; she grabbed him by the hand and marched him over by Piers, grabbed him a mat, rolled it out and pointed at it: "Now."

Dudley pouted, but saw that Teacher wasn't as easily swayed as Mummy or Daddy. Making sure to stomp, he crumpled into a heap with a sour glare on his face and folded his arms. "Can you believe this?" he whispered to Piers loudly. That was something Daddy said while he read the newspaper: _Can you believe this!? _It sounded grown-up and serious. Dudley liked that.

"It's only a nap, Dudley!" Piers whispered back, like he didn't get it.

Dudley's face fell. Did _no one _understand how awful naptime was? He reached out and pinched Piers to make a point of how serious this was. Yes, Piers was his best friend, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Piers squeaked in pain, looked mortally offended, and turned over on his side. (This caused a very severe fight: they didn't make up until snack time.)

'_I'll tell Mummy and she'll fix these people good,' _Dudley vowed, crossing his arms. _'I'm not even tired.' _All of this emotion had been very rough on him, and he closed his eyes.

Awhile later, he blinked blearily and rubbed his fat little fists over his eyes. He looked around, hoping no one had noticed…

He _might _have gone to sleep for a second or two. _Maybe._

* * *


End file.
